


Please Hold On While The Train Is Moving

by hannasus



Category: Veronica Mars (TV)
Genre: F/M, First Kiss, Season/Series 01, Weapons of Class Destruction, post-ep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-12
Updated: 2014-03-12
Packaged: 2018-01-15 12:48:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1305409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannasus/pseuds/hannasus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s nothing a little electroshock and aversion therapy can’t cure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Please Hold On While The Train Is Moving

**Author's Note:**

> I was digging around on my hard drive today and found this old ficlet from 2006 that I'd never posted for some reason. So in honor of the movie opening on Friday, here's a little blast from the past.

“Earth to Mars!” 

“Huh?” Veronica retorts cleverly, dragging herself away from the blank stare she’s been giving the inside of her locker.

“You’re doing that thing again,” Wallace tells her. “That thing where you pretend to listen but really your mind’s wandering.”

“My mind is not wandering,” she says, grabbing her books and slamming her locker shut. “It’s interviewing sherpas so it can climb Mount Everest. My mind is like, totally hardcore.”

Wallace sighs the sigh of the beleaguered and rolls his eyes. 

“Is it Eye Roll Wednesday already?” she says. “I must have forgotten to mark my calendar.” She’s aiming for charming insouciance but misses the mark and lands somewhere closer to off-putting sarcasm instead. 

“Who pissed in your Cornflakes today?” Wallace grumbles.

“Sorry. I’m totally off my BFF game. Maybe if I rub your head for good luck?” 

He dodges her half-hearted noogie and gives her an appraising eyebrow raise. “You okay?”

Ah, sweet, sweet Wallace, so kind and well-intentioned. Unfortunately, this is one problem he can’t help her with. 

She flashes her best Brave Little Toaster smile for him. “I think I might be coming down with something, but it’s nothing a little electroshock and aversion therapy can’t cure.”

He shakes his head again. “You’re insane, you know that, right?” 

“Yeah. But my crazy brings all the boys to the yard. And speaking of boys, aren’t you going to be late for practice?”

He gives her a furrowed look—the one that says he knows she’s hiding something but he also knows it’s no use trying to pry it out of her so he’s not even going to bother—tells her to take it easy, and ambles off to basketball practice.

Yeah, she’s coming down with something all right. She’s got all the major symptoms: light headedness, rapid heartbeat, inability to focus. Her face feels flushed and her mouth is dry for no reason. 

_Congratulations, Veronica, you’ve got a crush!_

She honestly she never expected it to happen to her. Not that she’s immune; she is a teenage girl, after all, and she’s drawn her fair share of hearts around boys’ names in spiral notebooks. But _this_? She never saw coming.

So. Logan Echolls. 

Okay, so maybe she’s always had self-destructive tendencies but she’s really managed to top herself this time. He’s only her ex-boyfriend’s best friend and her best friend’s ex-boyfriend, which makes for a double-helping of totally off limits. Not to mention, he’s the guy who’s basically made her life a living hell for the past year. 

She’s not proud of what it says about her—some toxic combination of “woefully, desperately lonely” and “disturbingly attracted to trouble”—that she’d actually let herself go and fall for the guy. Of all the idea flavors in the world, this one tastes like unmitigated disaster. 

Yet here she is, having all these _feelings_. Ugh. 

Just because a guy saves you from a kidnapper (or, in this case, an undercover ATF agent you only _thought_ was a kidnapper) doesn’t mean you have to stick your tongue down his throat. She’s pretty sure Emily Post would agree that a handshake and a heartfelt thank-you-very-much are sufficient. 

All that kissing? Definitely optional. 

It’s completely beside the point that said kissing was also very, very enjoyable. So enjoyable, in fact, that she’s been thinking about it sort of obsessively ever since it happened. Like the pretty-sure-she-just-failed-a-chemistry-quiz kind of obsessively. 

And it doesn’t help matters that Logan’s apparently decided to pretend the whole thing never happened, which is, let’s face it, entirely predictable.

Well, two can play that game. She’s prepared to ignore him for exactly as long as he’s prepared to ignore her. Longer, in fact. As of this moment she’s in training for the Ignoring Logan Echolls Olympic Team. 

Which is a great plan that totally would have worked—probably—except that Logan chooses that exact moment to loom up in front of her in the hallway. “Hey,” he says.

“Hey yourself,” she replies flatly.

“Listen, uh ...” He glances nervously over his shoulder like he’s being tailed by the CIA. And then he grabs her arm and drags her into the nearest empty classroom.

“Did you hear something about Duncan?” she asks, momentarily alarmed.

He shakes his head. “No, nothing yet.”

She waits, but he doesn’t say anything else, which is kind of maddening. 

“Well?” she says impatiently, because she’s a busy girl, after all. She’s got places to be, things to do, and it’s really not fair of him to be looking at her like this, not after the way he kissed her yesterday. “I still don’t know where Duncan is, if that’s what you want to know.”

“It’s not that,” he says. “I just thought maybe we should talk about … you know.”

“The Israeli-Palestinian conflict? Last week’s nail-biting episode of “Lost”? Whether Gwen Stefani is, in fact, a hollaback girl? You’re going to have to narrow it down for me.”

“Yesterday,” he says, smiling faintly. “You, me, the Camelot Motel. I believe there was kissing.”

“You _believe_ there was kissing? I must not be doing it right.”

“No, you did it very well. Outstanding, even.” He’s full-on grinning at her now, in a way that is _not_ , she tells herself, under any circumstances to be considered attractive. 

“Well, that’s a relief,” she says tartly. 

He’s just standing there looking at her in that way that makes her stomach do flip-flops so she takes a deep breath and starts talking, because if she doesn’t get through this quickly she’s afraid she won’t be able to get through it at all without dying of mortification. 

“Look, there’s really nothing to talk about. One oh-shit-I-almost-died make-out session does not make us Bennifer. It happened, it was a mistake, and it definitely will not be happening again.”

He takes a step towards her, smirking. “That’s too bad.”

She stiffens. “Don’t do that.” 

He spreads his hands, all innocence. “Do what?”

“Flirt with me like that, like I’m one of your 09er groupies, because I _know_ you, Logan, I’ve known you for years and you don’t even like me, so there’s no point in playing these games—”

“Apparently you don’t,” he cuts in, and he actually sounds kind of … angry? Hurt? Offended?

She blinks. “What?”

“Know me. Not as well as you think you do, anyway. How about that? Veronica Mars is not always right about everything after all. Someone should mark down the date and time for posterity.”

“Um,” Veronica says, and then swallows, because it turns out she doesn’t actually have a follow up to _um_. 

“Could it be she’s at a loss for words?” Logan says, and there’s that smirk again. “It’s one for the record books, folks.”

He bends down, moving towards her until their faces are so close they’re almost touching. Veronica stops breathing, and even though the rational part of her brain is telling her to get the hell away from him, there’s this other part, the part that’s apparently in control of her motor functions at the moment, that’s oh-so-shamefully hoping he’s going to kiss her again. 

He doesn’t kiss her, though. His lips brush against her ear and he says, “You’re adorable when you’re speechless.” And then he steps past her and is gone.

Veronica sags against the nearest desk. She doesn’t know whether she’s relieved or terrified. Flattered or appalled. Angry or disappointed. All of the above maybe?

Ugh, there she goes with the feelings again. 

_Note to self: look into that aversion therapy thing. Stat._


End file.
